Chapter 8
Elizabeth's head was spinning, first with the revelation that it was Darcy— her Darcy!—who was responsible for Mr. Bingley leaving Hertfordshire last autumn, and then second with the disastrous news contained in Jane's letters that Mr. Wickham had run away with Lydia.
How could any of this even be?
She didn't mean to overhear Darcy and Mr. Bingley speaking, but as soon as she heard him mention Hertfordshire, she couldn't help but listen—and goodness, was she in for a surprise.
It was Darcy who was responsible for the unhappiness of her dearest sister.
The revelation made her stomach churn, and then, as she tried to get away and pay little attention to Darcy, the letters arrived.
How could Mr. Wickham do such a thing? That handsome lieutenant, who charmed anyone and everyone back home in Meryton—why, he was so kind!
So chivalrous! So clever! So charismatic!
But Elizabeth felt a fool—she should have known there was something despicable about him when he paid her such close attention in the autumn just to turn his sights on Miss Mary King as soon as she became an heiress.
And for him to run off with her sister, of all people—
Embarrassment encompassed her as it became clear Darcy knew him, too.
Darcy was mixed up in all of this, wasn't he?
He advised Bingley to leave, and he apparently already knew Wickham was a snake.
Now he was accompanying them on their journey to Hertfordshire and would travel on with Mr. Gardiner to London.
Elizabeth should have been grateful, but she was still so angry and confused.
How could he have judged her family so harshly without ever even meeting them?
How could she reconcile her feelings for him now—and what must he think of her, now that he knew about Lydia's scandalous elopement with Mr. Wickham?
The journey home was long and tedious. Darcy was with them the first day but then departed on further, into the night.
She was simultaneously relieved and upset to see him go—she was so confused about her feelings for him now.
She wanted to get to the bottom of why he interfered with Bingley in the first place, and she also wanted to talk to him about Wickham.
The more the days went by, the less angry she became. She was mostly embarrassed, more than anything else. She wanted to know what he might think of her, if he still held her in any high esteem at all after this.
After arriving at Longbourn, she was happy enough to see Jane, but the happiness was tainted with the scandal of Lydia's misdeeds.
Mrs. Bennet was wailing upstairs, refusing to leave her bed—Elizabeth had no time to ponder whether Darcy still liked her or not anymore.
She immediately saw to caring for her mother and aiding Jane in whichever way she could.
The other sisters were just as melancholy, even if Kitty didn't seem to understand the gravity of their situation. Between Kitty's naive nonchalance, and Mary's patronizing sermonizing, Elizabeth longed to go back to the dream that was Pemberley—but alas, she couldn't.
She couldn't allow herself any time to wonder if Darcy might come back for her.
Mr. Bennet came home, but there was still no sign of Lydia. Elizabeth wondered if Darcy had given up; maybe he had changed his mind about helping them after all. She knew he had no real reason to help them—he was not in their debt or anything of the sort.
The days wore on; finally an express arrived from their uncle Gardiner, one detailing the terms of the marriage settlement between Lydia and Mr. Wickham.
Mr. Bennet lamented it of course— "How am I to ever repay your uncle?
" —and Elizabeth held her breath, waiting for mention of Darcy, but it never came.
She sighed with the heaviest disappointment. But why was she so let down? She knew this would be likely. The more time spent away from Pemberley, the less real it all seemed. It was a distant dream, one so far off that it must have been partially imagined.
After all, there was no sign of Mr. Bingley.
Didn't he say he would return and reopen Netherfield?
Perhaps he had intended to, but Lydia's scandal was enough incentive to keep him away—maybe he changed his mind for good.
Elizabeth held back tears on her sister's account, grateful she hadn't gotten Jane's hopes up at all.
She couldn't bear it if she had made her hope, when it turned out all hope was lost.. .
The days ticked by. Eventually Lydia was married, and the new couple even had the gall to come visit Longbourn, with their mother conveniently forgetting the abysmal scandal which surrounded their dubious marriage.
Elizabeth could scarcely look at the treacherous man—how could he smile in everyone's faces like he was, when he brought near-ruin upon their house?
They couldn't leave fast enough—Elizabeth didn't even stay long enough to send them off, making up some excuse about feeling ill and then dashing off her chambers.
Jane followed her.
"Lizzy? Are you well?"
Elizabeth hadn't the heart to tell Jane everything that happened in Derbyshire before now—how could she commiserate on her own loss of love, to Jane of all people?
But as she looked at her sister, she could hold back no longer—tears came, and she cried for the first time, the first real time, letting herself mourn the love she temporarily had and then so suddenly lost. She nearly told Jane everything, but she left out the part about Darcy being the one to advise Mr. Bingley away.
She couldn't bring it up and risk hurting Jane with such a painful reminder.
Her sister sat patiently, a hand rubbing her back, eyes sympathetic and sad.
"Oh, my dear Lizzy," she said softly, "Why ever didn't you tell me this before?"
"Oh, Jane," Elizabeth answered, "It just seemed nonsensical, in the wake of all this with Lydia. And I had hoped, I had thought maybe—perhaps—we would see Mr. Darcy again...after he...but it seems he hadn't a hand in helping, after all."
Jane furrowed her brow. "You cannot truly know that, though. Perhaps Uncle Gardiner merely left that information out in his letter, on purpose? Perhaps he didn't want Papa to feel he was in a strange young gentleman's debt?"
Elizabeth paused, considering it, but then she dismissed it, shaking her head. "Oh, Jane I think the truth is much more bleak: Mr. Darcy wouldn't want anything to do with me now that he knows of our family's ruin—"
"Near ruin," Jane corrected, smiling weakly. "After all, Lydia is Mrs. Wickham now, is she not?"
Elizabeth nodded. "I suppose you're right, but—"
She was cut off by a loud cry from Mrs. Bennet downstairs, a commotion.
"I suppose we need to help Mama, with whatever is the matter," Elizabeth said with a sigh, as if resolving herself to her fate for the rest of her life.
They ventured downstairs, noticing that Mrs. Bennet was quiet, but there was lots of movement—they went into the sitting room, and their mother grabbed them both, shoving them quickly down onto the settee, and throwing embroidery into their laps—
"Quickly, Jane! Lizzy! Mr. Bingley is here!"
Elizabeth's jaw dropped, and Jane's face tinged a light pinkish hue. They looked at one another, and Elizabeth smiled after a moment.
Could it be? Could Mr. Bingley really—
"And he's brought a tall, handsome friend!" Mrs. Bennet hissed in a whisper, looking directly at Elizabeth, "Who says he is an acquaintance of yours.”
Now it was Elizabeth's turn to blush, but before she could speak, Darcy and Mr. Bingley came into the room.